FYM - 54

As the hour approached midnight, the lamps in Yuanxiu Pavilion still burned brightly.

Fang Xianting sat alone under the light, reviewing several confidential letters from Chang’an and Yichuan. Two reports stood out: First, before the new year, the emperor had ordered regional military governors to return to the Western Capital for New Year’s celebrations. Seven of ten complied, but Zhong He and Wu Huaimin of Longyou, Hexi, and Beiting claimed illness and remained absent even after the first month. Their intentions were clear. Second, disturbances along the borders near Longyou had intensified. Prince Qin remained at large, signaling potential warfare.

Though still in mourning, Fang couldn’t resume his duties in Chang’an, but border security was paramount. To prevent Zhong’s rebellion, he needed to mobilize troops early and head north to coordinate with the Lou family. Troop deployments in Yichuan and the Western Capital required his oversight.

Yet…

Closing his eyes, he recalled Song Shuyan’s expression that morning when she announced her departure for Qiantang. Her voice was as calm as their farewell on the river a year ago, yet her gaze held more emotion.

…As if waiting for him.

Or perhaps an outcome.

His brow twitched, a rare moment of uncertainty. Though he knew what he desired, hesitation lingered—mourning prevented marriage, and soon he’d likely return to battle. She was at her prime; asking her to wait felt unfair.

The lamp flickered, interrupting his thoughts, bringing a headache. A soft knock sounded at the door. His mother had arrived.

He quickly rose to assist her, seating her carefully in a chair. “Mother, why are you here? Are you unwell?”

Lady Jiang waved dismissively, appearing more relaxed without her ornaments. “Just couldn’t sleep… Seeing your light on, I came.”

He nodded, pouring her warm water. Glancing at the stack of letters, she reminisced about her late husband.

“Will there be war again?” she sighed sorrowfully. “Is Chang’an still peaceful?”

Fang understood her grief. The peace her husband sacrificed for was fragile; even with the crown prince ascending, turmoil loomed. If his father knew, he’d surely lament.

“The situation remains unsettled,” he cautiously omitted grim details, offering comfort. “Don’t worry too much.”

His tone echoed his father’s. Lady Jiang smiled wistfully, thinking her son likely saw her as frail. After a pause, she spoke again. “I can’t interfere in state affairs, only hope you take care, unlike your father…”

Her voice trailed off, tears welling up.

Fang felt heavy-hearted. Before he could console her, she wiped her tears, feigning nonchalance. “When will you leave Jinling? They must be urging you back…”

Indeed, he shouldn’t linger.

This trip to Jiangnan was partly to escort his mother north and to rally scholarly support for the new emperor. The Song family, leading Jiangnan’s literati, could help legitimize the emperor amidst rumors of patricide and political unrest. Convincing them to return to Chang’an would simplify matters.

Lord Song was loyal but indecisive, evidenced by his retreat south during succession struggles—a weakness in these turbulent times. Fang had discussed this extensively with the Song brothers, persuading them to pledge allegiance. Lord Song agreed, justifying Fang’s efforts.

“I’ll depart soon,” he murmured. “Let me prepare, then we’ll leave.”

Lady Jiang nodded, glancing at him. “What about Shuyan?”

He paused, momentarily startled. “…Hm?”

“I heard she’s returning to Qiantang,” Lady Jiang’s expression was subtle, understanding. “Won’t you see her?”

Her blunt question left him speechless, palms inexplicably sweaty.

“Mother, I…”

He was flustered.

Lady Jiang smiled, seeing her son like this for the first time. Recalling his mention of visiting Jinling en route from Luzhou, his eyes had gleamed peculiarly then.

…Clearly, he thought of the Song daughter.

“My life has only you and your sister…”

Lady Jiang shook her head, eyes tinged with sadness.

“Your sister was forced into the Eastern Palace, never happy again… But your father wasn’t better, dedicating his life to state affairs, enduring countless hardships…”

“…Now it’s your turn.”

“I have no other wish but for you to live happily… Even if you end up torn like your father, at least find peace at home…”

She gazed tenderly at her son.

“Shuyan is wonderful—intelligent, graceful, virtuous,” she smiled. “Her mother passed, and she’s not favored in the Song household… But we don’t mind those things. If you like her, she’s perfect.”

“I see she cares for you too, though she can’t express it… Returning to Qiantang doesn’t matter. Go with her, clarify your feelings. Even if marriage waits, at least don’t let each other slip away.”

“It’s rare to find mutual affection… Yi Zhi, I only want fewer regrets for you.”

Her heartfelt words, referencing his father and sister, weighed heavily. Fang struggled to respond, Song Shuyan’s image growing clearer in his mind. Plums bloomed beautifully in Jiangnan; even indoors, their faint fragrance seemed present.

Perhaps…

…He truly couldn’t let go of this blossom.

Song Dan, as usual, showed little concern for his daughter’s return to Qiantang. Lady Wan and her daughter rejoiced, thinking the troublesome girl would leave Fang’s sight. Thus, they were unusually pleasant during morning greetings.

Song Mingzhen understood their relief but sympathized with his fourth sister. Disdainful of their smugness, he considered retreating to Qiantang with her. Visiting his third brother for drinks, he mentioned this plan.

“You’ll accompany your sister to Qiantang?” Fang raised an eyebrow.

Song Mingzhen nodded, pouring wine. “Previously, being far from Qiantang and focused on martial exams, I couldn’t join her… Now, it’s only three or four days between Jinling and Qiantang. I’ll go.”

His tone was casual, but mentioning “martial exams” betrayed lingering ambition, suppressed by misfortune.

“Lishan is past. The new emperor won’t dwell on history,” Fang advised, frowning. “With uncertainties now, once stability returns, special exams may reopen. You’ll succeed then.”

These comforting words had been repeated by his sister. Song Mingzhen smiled wanly, thanking him, quickly returning to Qiantang plans.

“To escape the main house’s suffocating atmosphere,” he drained his cup, still gloomy. “Besides, my sister’s birthday approaches. Last year, I missed it; this year, I’ll make amends.”

Unbeknownst to him, Fang’s expression shifted subtly at the mention of her birthday.

“When is your sister’s birthday?” Fang asked casually.

“February eighth,” Song Mingzhen replied swiftly, adding wistfully, “In the blink of an eye, she’ll be sixteen… Wonder which unfortunate soul will marry her…”

Unaware he sat before one such “unfortunate soul,” he continued cursing freely. Fang felt uneasy, but Song Mingzhen pressed further. “When will you head north? Any unfinished business in Jinling?”

Fang coughed, saying he’d leave soon, though not urgently. Concerned about entanglements with Lady Wan and her daughter, Song Mingzhen gently urged, “Returning north soon is wise… Or, visit Qiantang with us? It’s nearby; Mother might enjoy it…”

This suggestion was offhand, expecting rejection. Surprisingly, Fang hesitated, showing interest.

“Qiantang’s spring scenery is splendid!” Song Mingzhen encouraged earnestly. “Join us! My sister’s maternal home is affluent; they’ll ensure hospitality!”

His enthusiastic persuasion reflected genuine sincerity. After pondering, Fang reluctantly agreed, seeming somewhat forced.

“Very well…”

He sighed, hiding a subtle smile.

“…Though I may trouble your sister.”